"pully" poems
Gavel in hand
and eyes that cast shadows
on my face
Who are you?
The world is full of double standards
unforgiving
holding ever so tightly to
a false image of god
Hateful
Inhumane
Curse you robots accustomed to dogmatic belief
Your counterfiet
Half assed
Rehashed
Evolve already!
my mind trails....
down different paths
curse me
crucify me
I love to love
built to need another
to feel
to think for myself
to love being a women
and the power that comes with it
My conscience
clear
How's yours?
Guilted into life
Worshipping death
**** off the ones that disagree
metaphorically
and play your role "right"
In the big machine
I am more than rust or grease
a lever a pully a tool to please
and the day I die I'll rest with peace
knowing I operate differently
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 9:49 AM UTC
Yeah so **** you….
Im tired of your space bound ********
alienate yourself or get a grip
I dont wanna hear your irrate comments
they pass by like comets
unnoticed and unmentioned
pushing harder for the dig
digging harder for that trigger
im not gunna flinch
cuz i got that vigor
You trying to get that dose of jealousy
but let me give you this dose of irony
Your dig’s like a rig
trying to pull me like a pully
im unattached
so when you pull as hard as you do
your gunna crash
in a flash, your smashed, patched and stuck with a past
Speaking of which, ive got a word for you too..
I think you owe me an apology.
This shift in your etymology,
has shifted my idealology.
Chronologically,
that hasnt worked out well for me.
Spitting **** about philosophy..
questioning my theology.
pretending it was all for me…
Im not some experiment
to understand psychology…
Man, **** your methodology.
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 5:25 AM UTC
I'm reading your words in my hospital bed
Either laughing or crying at all that is said
I must look quite crazy as my mind is lead
through a hundred emotions poured out from your head.
The nurses are pretty, they keep me well watered
The plaster is some kind of cruel itching torture
the weights on a pully hoist my broken leg
forbidding escape from my blue sheeted bed.
So I wink at the nurses and turn on the charm
I smile at them sweetly as they take my arm
this won't hurt a bit, just a scratch.. so I tell her
she can hurt what she likes if she kisses it better.
She raises her eyebrows and then starts to laugh
as I discuss my need for another spongebath
the colour it rises and forms in her cheeks
You can't blame me for trying, I'm stuck here for weeks!
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
Squeaking of a pully
rips the night in half
and a rope is hoisted up
I watch the dew evaporate
the grass made green
and the trees blow in blinding solar wind
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 9:43 AM UTC